Writing my last day from memory …

I remember waking up with mixed emotions.  Packed up at Duck Hole and prepared ourselves for another long-ish day.  I looked forward to completing the trip, but wasn’t sure if I wanted it to end.  I was running out of time to figure it all out, but was pretty sure that I had made the decision to leave my life in Boston and start a new life in the Adirondacks.  I had fallen in love with the area, the lifestyle, and it was clear to me that it is where I belong.

The hiking was slow-going.  Tons of blow down and mud on the trail, which sort of fit the mood.  It was impossible to hike fast, making me even more anxious since I knew my parents would be waiting for us at the end of the trail.  Later on I took a side trip to Wanika Falls while Dave filled up our water for the last time.  The falls were very pretty, but not picture worthy since we only had a few shots left and wanted to save them for the end of the trail.

We knew we were almost done with our journey when we passed a couple hiking in for the afternoon.  Slightly ahead of me, I saw the woman stop Dave and ask him a question.  When I caught up to them I learned that she had relayed a message from my parents.  They had been checking the trailhead all afternoon for any sign of us  -- We were almost done.  A little less than an hour later, we finished the trail.  It was a great feeling.  We put down our packs, took off our boots, and sipped the last of our water while we waited for my parents to come back for us.  Used up our last pictures and even fit in a knife throwing lesson.  After 10 minutes or so my parents showed up.  It was great to see them; it had been too long!  I’m sure they were thrilled to see me too, but were even more thrilled to finally meet Dave.  Threw our packs in the car and headed into Lake Placid to meet up with Dave’s parents for a long weekend in town.

For me, distance hiking can be a strange mix of misery and bliss, frustration and contentment.  I've discovered that the times along the trail when I am at my breaking point, when I am thinking to myself that I just want to quit.... are the times when it is the least possible to do so.  Usually when I am knee deep in muck or waist deep in water, or exhausted and a half day from anywhere.  And the times when it is actually possible to throw in the towel and call it a trip, such as when we hit the towns along the way or settle down for a night at a lean-to.... are the times when my spirits are high and motivation strong and the last thing I want to do is end the hike.

This is never more evident then on the last day, where it seems that every pause, every water break, is a time to contemplate the actual end of the trip and reflect on the experience of it all.  So happy to be near my goal, yet so sad that it will soon end.

Reaching Lake Placid had a slightly different feel for me this second time around.  I was thrilled to witness Jess' excitement at having finished the trail and happy that sharing this experience allowed us to become closer.  And well, I was also a bit anxious to finally meet her parents - smelly, dirty, sweaty, and sporting a 2 week old beard was not the first impression I was going for. 

I took comfort in the fact that reaching the end for a second time helped me work through some questions I had for myself, and put to bed some small doubts that were left over from the first hike.

But the most striking difference was that I wasn't feeling the enormous relief that I was last time.  The overwhelming sensation of finally being done was muted - it was a different sort of feeling all together.  It was more of a quiet satisfaction and an understanding.   A realization that I wasn't "finished" or "done" with the trail at all.  In fact, I couldn't help but feel that in a lot of ways, my adventures on the Northville Placid were just getting started.

I suspect I'll be back soon.